


Legacy

by breeisonfire



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Badass pretty much everyone, Brotherly Bonding, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: The end of the world hadn’t been as sudden as Scott had been expecting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been in the works for a while now. It's a zombie apocalypse au, if that wasn't already clear. Heavily influenced by The Last Of Us. I love Ellie so much, it is not even a little bit funny.
> 
> This isn't done yet, but by God I will finish it if it is the last thing I do. If you wanna hit me up, or maybe remind me to write, here's a [link to my tumblr](http://drdone.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Scott wiped the sweat out of his eyes, cursing the July heat as he pushed himself up to his feet. “How’s it looking?”

Gordon, perched on top of their van like he was about to leap off, shrugged. “Could use a little bit of color, but you get an A for effort.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I meant the road, Gordon.”

“I know,” Gordon said, looking ahead of them. “It looks empty. A whole lotta nothing. You think maybe we’re the only people left on the planet?”

“We better not be,” Scott mumbled, yanking on the hook connected to the back of the van. It didn’t budge, but it didn’t make him feel better. The trailer carried most of their extra supplies; they couldn’t lose it.

He missed their old RV. It had been a pain to get gas for, but it had been useful, both as a home and as storage. Damn the men who had taken it. Hopefully, without Virgil’s ingenuity and sheer stubbornness, they weren’t having the same luck keeping it running.

He straightened up all the way, grimacing as the ache in his leg intensified. Attempting to ignore it, he limped around the van and to the back of the trailer, feeling rather than hearing Gordon drop to the ground and come up next to him.

“We’re still good on medical supplies,” he said, helping Scott close the trailer door. “Assuming Virgil doesn’t get sick again. I don’t know what to do for Alan.”

Scott forced himself to take a deep breath. “Whatever you can do.”

Gordon sighed. “Yeah.”

As if on cue, Alan and Virgil walked around the trailer, both carrying the sleeping bags they’d managed to get a hold of. John was only a few steps behind them, a jug of water in his own hands. Scott felt something ease inside of him at the fact that they were all accounted for.

Until Alan shifted his weight and pulled his right arm in closer to his body. Then reality hit again and Scott was reminded just how over his head he was.

“Ready to hit it?” he asked, forcing himself to act normal. He had to hold it together. Especially now.

“You mean ‘ready to be stuck in a van for six hours?’” Virgil asked as he shoved his sleeping bag into the back of the van.

“At least you get to drive,” John said, putting the water jug right next to it. “ _I’m_ stuck in the back.”

Under normal circumstances, that would have prompted a joke from Alan - still the smallest of the brothers - at John’s (very tall) expense, but nothing was normal, and Alan was clearly not in a joking mood. He just loaded his sleeping bag up and climbed into the van.

“Jesus,” Gordon muttered under his breath before following suit. Scott went to go walk around to the passenger seat, but John grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back a few feet, a serious and troubled look on his face.

“What?” Scott asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear it.

“Something’s not right here,” John said, but didn’t immediately elaborate. Scott stared at him.

“You’re kidding, right?” he said. “There’s a lot of things _not right_ here, Johnny, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“You know what I mean,” John said. “Alan. It’s been four days now. He should have...Changed days ago.”

Scott knew John was right. He hated that John was right. They’d been attacked and forced to split up, and in the time it took to find each other again, Alan had been bit. The Changing usually happened in the first twenty-four hours after the bite. Thus far, Alan hadn’t shown any symptoms of Changing, but it was only a matter of time.

“I know,” Scott admitted. “I just…”

“Dad was a part of the team that created this virus,” John interrupted. Scott blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Uh,” he said. “I know? You told me already, remember?”

“I think we should be heading to his lab,” John said. “Maybe there’s some answers there. Maybe there’s a reason Alan’s not reacting the way everyone else has.”

Scott frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” John said, clearly frustrated. “I just think - there has to be _something_. We can’t just - this feels wrong.”

John was getting worked up in a way Scott hadn’t really seen in a while. John had disagreed on a lot of things with their dad, particularly when it came to Alan, but this seemed to be on a different level. This seemed to be angrier than John ever got.

“He’s the cause of this,” John continued. Scott got the feeling that if their little brothers weren’t all blatantly staring at them from the van, he’d be gesturing angrily. Instead, he was restrained, though his eyes were filled with fire. “He was so obsessed with leaving a mark on the world, this can’t be the one he decided to leave. There has to be _something_.”

“So, what, you want to go looking for something that might not even be there?” Scott asked, feeling his own frustration rise. “We don’t have the resources for that! We should be heading to the safe zones -.”

“We’re going to lose Alan!” John was barely keeping his voice down, and in the van Scott could see Alan hunch down. “You know that even if he _hasn’t_ Changed by the time we make it to DC, they’re not going to let him anywhere near the city. They’ll kill him!”

“Hey!” came from the van. Virgil was leaning out, glaring at both of them. “You wanna attract every infected in the area? Get in the van! Have the conversation in here, it’s not like we can’t hear _every single word_ you’re saying.”

“We shouldn’t -,” Scott started, glancing to where the top of Alan’s head was visible, but Virgil cut him off.

“Alan’s the one who was bit, he deserves to hear what you’re saying,” Virgil said, then slammed the door closed, effectively stopping either of them from arguing. Scott grimaced, but started limping towards the passenger side door. John didn’t move for a long moment, but then turned, pulling the door open and climbing in.

“Thank you,” Virgil said, starting the car. “Now, with your inside voices, explain what the _hell_ you mean by ‘Dad was on the team that created the virus.’”

“There’s really only one way to take that,” Gordon said icily. He was _pissed_. If John had disagreed with their dad, Gordon had outright despised him. Before the original outbreak, Gordon hadn’t been to their home in NYC in years; Scott was pretty sure the last time he’d seen Gordon in person was Grandma’s funeral. It had been somewhat of a surprise to see Gordon walk into the apartment, just before everything went to hell.

John seemed a lot less inclined to explain now, but reluctantly continued. “I found out by accident.”

“You don’t do anything by accident,” came from the very back of the van. Scott couldn’t even seen Alan, as far down as he was, but John’s expression softened, just a bit.

“This was by accident,” he said. “I wasn’t looking for information on his projects.”

“What _were_ you looking for?” Scott asked.

“Something else,” John said. “I didn’t find it. I don’t know what happened, but I _know_ it was a biological weapon. I find it really hard to believe that they would create something that could do all this and not have a backup plan.”

“I don’t,” Gordon muttered. John ignored him, meeting Scott’s eyes instead.

“I think we should go to the lab,” he said.

“I agree,” Virgil said. “He’s right, Dad had to have left something.”

“I don’t think you should risk it,” Alan said quietly. “You guys should get to safety.”

“We’re not leaving you, Allie,” Gordon said.

“But -.”

“No,” they all said in unison.

“You guys are going to get yourselves killed!” Alan’s head suddenly popped up. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Please, just go to DC. I’m infected and sooner or later I’m going to Change. I don’t -,” he cut himself off, then took a deep breath before continuing in a softer voice, “I don’t want you guys to have to see that.”

Scott felt his stomach drop. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to take care of his brothers and protect them. That was his job, it always had been. But he’d messed up and now his baby brother was going to Change, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

But he sure as hell wasn’t about to leave him alone.

“We’re not going to DC,” he said, finally making his mind up.

“Scott,” Alan started, looking ready to fight him on this.

“No,” Scott said, firmly but gently. “We’re not leaving you. And even if we can’t - even if we don’t make it there in time, maybe we can still find something.”

 _So you don’t die in vain_ , he mentally added, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest at the thought.

Alan slumped, looking defeated. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Scott repeated. “So we’re in agreement?”

“Yep,” Virgil said. Alan shrugged.

“I still think it’s pointless,” Gordon said. “But sure, whatever.”

“Thank you for your enthusiasm,” Scott said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Any idea what we’re looking for, John?”

“Not a clue,” John said.

“Great. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

The end of the world hadn’t been as sudden as Scott had been expecting. He’d been used to combat, to sudden, pointless, gruesome deaths that still, even now, haunted his dreams. He still heard explosions when he was on the brink of exhaustion, and he still flinched at gunfire.

In some ways, he thought he would have preferred it to end quickly. It would have been easier.

Then again, if it had, he wouldn’t have seen his brothers again. John had been at NASA, training to be an astronaut. Virgil had been in NYC, finally gaining recognition as an artist while simultaneously working on his Engineering degree. Alan was still in _high school_ , at a boarding school just outside of Boston. Gordon had been AWOL for three years. Scott still didn’t know what Gordon had actually been doing during that time.

It had all started when rumors - just rumors - had started spreading on the military front. Scott had been on leave, in between tours, catching up with some friends from boot camp when Colonel Casey had contacted him, talking about a situation developing, CDC protocols and possible sabotage. Then she’d mentioned his dad.

Scott had immediately attempted to get in touch with his dad, and found himself stonewalled at every turn. His anxiety had grown and he’d contacted John. It turned out his genius younger brother had his own suspicions. Rumors were spreading in the science community, as well. The pieces were starting to fall into place.

And then the first public outbreak had happened. Most people had thought it a hoax, but Scott and John had known better. And Scott had decided it wasn’t worth it. He had family he had to take care of, and he’d left, essentially deserting. He’d flown home to NYC as quickly as he’d been able, making a detour to pick up Alan and take him with. John had been right there with him.

Virgil and Alan hadn’t been aware of what was going on beyond what little the media was reporting. There had been a cover-up, a sense of damage control that Scott had known to be superficial. Virgil had been horrified by the news; Alan had been strangely accepting.

Then again, Alan had always been a borderline conspiracy theorist. Maybe Scott shouldn’t have been surprised by his reaction.

They’d prepared for disaster. They’d planned for just the four of them. And then Gordon had appeared, just days before the travel ban. He’d been cagey about where he’d been and what he knew. He’d had new scars and some impressive (and slightly concerning) sharpshooting skills. His attitude, especially towards their dad, was more hostile than ever, but he’d come home because he’d been worried about them. Scott figured he could cut him some slack.

The travel ban had been the beginning of the end.


	2. Chapter 2

“I miss air conditioning,” Virgil announced. He was leaning against the side of the van, keeping an eye on the road as they took turns going inside the gas station they’d found, using the restroom and taking anything that might be of use. Virgil remembered feeling guilty for that, in the early days. Now he was just glad there was still a supply of water bottles in the back, apparently overlooked by past looters.

And beef jerky. Man, he missed his vegetarian days.

Gordon snorted in response to Virgil’s words, but John said, “I miss my telescope.”

“Nerd,” Virgil said. “I miss salad.”

Gordon and John both stared at him for a long moment. Virgil raised an eyebrow, feeling a little defensive. “What?”

“Salad?” Gordon repeated.

“He was a vegetarian for last two years,” John informed Gordon, still staring at Virgil.

Gordon shook his head. “Do you _have_ to be the hipster stereotype?”

“Do you have to be an asshole?” Virgil shot back.

Gordon just grinned. When he’d first came back, he’d been rough at the edges, a little too sharp and a little too easy to set off. They all had. They’d spent months relearning to be brothers again, to be in each other’s space like they’d used to, and now, they’d finally found a rhythm that worked for them.

For the most part, anyway.

Scott walked out of the store just then, carrying a jug of water. He put the jug down and turned to them, doing an automatic headcount. He frowned.

“Where’s Alan?” he asked.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I thought he was with you?”

Scott shook his head. “He said he was coming back out here to wait with you guys.”

Virgil felt cool dread running through his veins. Alan was convinced - they were all convinced - that the Bite was a death sentence. He knew as well as any of them that when the time actually came, chances were none of them were gonna be able to take that shot (Just _thinking_ that made Virgil nauseous). Alan had gotten it in his head that he should cut the problem off before it started. John had been the one to find him, because John _always_ found Alan, and he’d said that when he first saw him, Alan had had his dagger resting on his wrist. He’d told John that he didn’t want to hurt anyone, and he didn’t want to make them have to deal with it.

Luckily, John had talked him down, but after the argument in the van…

Before any of them could actually get worked up, Alan came around the corner. He blinked, clearly caught off guard by suddenly being the attention of all four of them. He held his hands up.

“Uh, hi?” he said uncertainly.

“Jesus, this is ridiculous,” Gordon groaned. “Can we just get moving?”

Scott sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, let’s get going.”

“Oh, joy,” John muttered. Virgil tried not to smirk.

“How far do you think we’ll make it before we need to find gas?” Scott asked as they climbed back to the van.

Virgil frowned. “Maybe another hundred miles or so? Assuming we don’t use the air conditioner.”

“We’ll open the windows,” Scott said, doing just that. Virgil grimaced, but did the same.

The drive was slow-going. It always was, nowadays. The roads were littered with debris. Remains of cars were everywhere, some still in good condition, others clearly looted and ruined beyond repair. There were bodies of the unlucky here and there, some being torn apart by the even unluckier souls that were now infected. The van unfortunately caught their attention as they passed, but they easily outran them.

As they continued on, the sky got darker, clouds beginning to gather above them. Virgil didn’t like the looks of them. It looked like a big one was on the way.

“Yeesh,” Gordon commented. “Are we going to keep the windows down once the sky decides to dump all that?”

Virgil could see Scott’s exasperated expression out of the corner of his eye. He hid his smile.

“No, Gordon, we are not,” he answered for Scott. “But I also don’t think we should keep going, the wind is starting to get nasty and I don’t know how well the trailer is gonna hold up.”

“I agree,” Scott said.

Before they even could pull over, the sky opened up. It started _pouring_ . Alan yelped as they scrambled to roll the windows up. Gordon, who had caught a face full of water, sputtered as Virgil very carefully did _not_ slam on the brakes. He pulled over and finished rolling his own window up before turning the car off.

“ _J_ _esus_ ,” Gordon said. He was soaked, his blue shirt now a much darker blue. Virgil wiped his face on his shirt, not that it did much. He and Gordon were on the same side of the van, and unfortunately that had been the way the rain was falling. By comparison, Scott, John, and Alan were relatively dry. And even they were fairly wet.

“Looks like we should get comfortable,” Scott said.

“Virgil needs a dry shirt,” Gordon said flatly. Virgil didn’t bother to give Gordon a look. His bout of pneumonia had scared all of them and it wasn’t worth the argument. He accepted the shirt John passed him and stripped his off, using it to dry himself off the best he could before pulling the new one on.

For a while, none of them spoke. The wind was harsh and the rain was pounding, the noise almost too loud for Virgil to hear himself think. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and then the hail started to fall. Virgil prayed the van’s windshield would hold up.

“This is ridiculous!” Gordon yelled. Virgil could barely hear him. He saw John’s mouth move, but couldn’t make out what he’d said at all. He wished they’d found actual shelter. The van was feeling pretty flimsy at the moment.

The sky got dark and soon Virgil couldn’t see anything. They didn’t have enough gas for him to risk turning the van on, and the flashlight batteries were already running low. It was better to wait it out. He didn’t need to be able to see his brothers to know they agreed.

Of course, it would be nice to be able to actually see them. Or anything at all. He wasn’t scared of the dark, exactly, but it made him feel vulnerable.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it, though, so he settled back against the window and crossed his arms, hoping the storm would die down soon.

* * *

 

Virgil had been alone at their apartment in New York City for so long that having Scott show up with Alan in tow had been a surprise. It’d been months since he’d seen either; Alan was at least three inches taller and Scott looked like he’d aged ten years, but he’d welcomed them in anyway.

Less welcome was the news Scott brought with him. The outbreak, their dad, everything; it had been horrible. He didn’t want to believe any of it, but the grim expression on Scott’s face had convinced him.

John had shown up less than a day later, with more information and a lot of harsh words about their dad. Scott and John had disagreed over that, and Virgil had tried to keep the peace. Alan hadn’t said much at all. The one thing the two eldest could agree on was that they needed to prepare.

So they did. Virgil didn’t like to think about the list of things Scott was sure they’d need. He didn’t want to remember John reading through the papers and records, getting any bit of information about what was going on he could find. He hadn't wanted any of it to be real.

Things were so chaotic at that point that it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when Gordon just strolled right into the apartment. Literally strolled, hands in his pockets, slouching, Virgil wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d whistled. Virgil had nearly had a heart attack right then and there.

If Scott and John’s information about this was alarming, Gordon’s was downright terrifying. He’d had his own sources and theories, some that matched up with John and Scott’s and some that were completely new. He had his own survival pack all ready to go, along with weapons and a sleeping bag. All it was well-used.

When the travel ban came into effect, panic ensued. The streets were a mess; people were stranded, riots began taking place. It was only a day later that the virus hit NYC as well.

The only reason they made it out of the city to the RV that Scott had somehow acquired was because of Gordon. Virgil still didn’t know what the hell the kid had been up to in the past couple of years, but when people who had clearly been infected went for them, Gordon hadn’t hesitated. It had taken a few moments for Scott to join in, and then the two of them had led the way through the city to the RV.

They’d headed north out of sheer desperation, as it was the route with the least amount of traffic and carnage. Back then, it had been the most horrifying thing Virgil had ever seen.

Nowadays it would have barely registered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOD chapter tHREE

It was quiet.

John didn’t mind the quiet, never had. Especially now. Quiet meant no immediate danger. It meant there weren’t any Infected near them. It meant they could take a breather.

And thank God for that. The van was making a noise that none of them were comfortable with. Virgil had opened up the hood and was working on the engine, muttering to himself. He didn’t seem to want or need any help, so they were all taking a moment for themselves.

John took a deep breath. The air felt fresh, not a hint of danger in the slight breeze that caused the leaves on the trees to dance. He knew colder weather was coming, but at the moment, the cool air felt nice. Refreshing, even.

Gordon had vanished from sight almost immediately. John wasn’t worried about him; he’d more than proved he could take care of himself. Scott was seated on the ground, leaning against one of the wheels of the trailer. He was stretching out his bad leg, grimacing with every movement.

Alan was near John, sat on a log. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and was playing with the grass absentmindedly. He’d been quiet since the storm the night before. John didn’t like it.

They were all on a hair trigger, waiting for any sign of the Bite to take effect on Alan. They didn’t have a plan what to do if it did happen. When he’d found Alan, he’d had to talk him out of killing himself right there. He’d had to spend a half an hour coaxing Alan out from underneath the car he’d taken refuge under. It was more than enough to fuel John’s nightmares for the rest of his life. The idea of having to add Alan Changing to that was enough to make John nauseous.

It’d been five days. _Five days_ , with none of the usual signs. They knew the symptoms. They’d seen it happen more than once. They’d travelled with groups in the past, they knew the process. They knew how it worked.

When someone was bit, they essentially lost their grip on humanity. It affected cognitive skills first; they lost memories, little by little. They became confused, and their speech slurred. They became clumsy, uncoordinated. They got paranoid and incoherent. They stopped recognizing those around them, and by that point, they became aggressive and would attack anything near them.

After that, they were gone, and in theory it was better to end it before they got that far. On paper, it seemed easy.

In reality, John couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it to any of the others they’d met, despite barely knowing them. He couldn’t do it to people he didn’t even know. There was no way in _hell_ he could do it to Alan.

Still, in all the time since the Outbreak, John hadn’t seen anyone last longer than twenty-four hours. The fact that Alan still remembered everything they quizzed him on with perfect clarity, the fact that he could still reason and problem solve, that he could still walk in a straight line while complaining about being put through a field sobriety test meant that something was different here. _Something_ about Alan was different.

And John hoped it would hold out.

There was a yell of triumph from the direction of the van, and Virgil stood up straight, his hands and forehead covered in grease. He grinned and walked around to get in and started up the engine.

It sounded normal, and John exhaled slowly. _Thank God_.

“Hear that?” Virgil called. “That’s the sound of a beautifully functioning engine.”

John rolled his eyes and out of the corner of his eye, saw Alan doing the same. He tried not to grin as he walked over to help Scott get to his feet. Moments later, Gordon emerged from the trees, looking as relaxed as he ever got these days.

“See anything interesting?” Scott asked. Gordon shrugged.

“A few trees,” he said. “Grass. Think I saw the sky at one point.”

“Alright, smart ass,” Scott said, but he was grinning. Better yet, _Alan_ was grinning, and Gordon winked at John as he climbed past into the van. John shook his head, amused despite himself, and followed suit.

* * *

 John had known something was up the moment he first heard the rumors about the project his dad was working on. He shouldn’t have heard them in the first place. He was working at NASA, he was preparing to go on a mission, his dad was working in a biochemical lab doing research that had nothing to do with space. He went out of his way to not associate himself with his dad’s legacy.

And yet.

Against his better judgement, he’d dug around for information. John had always been good with computers. And he was definitely good at finding and knowing things he shouldn’t.

Which was how he’d learned his dad had been working on a _biological weapon_.

True, it wasn’t supposed to used that way, but it was easy to see exactly how it could be weaponized. There were notes in the files on how they needed to tighten up security in case anyone got the idea to do so. If they’d ever gotten around to that, John didn’t know, but either way, someone had gotten in, and someone had done exactly what they were afraid of.

Hence, the Outbreak.

John had theories about how it had spread so fast. It seemed to only spread through bodily fluids, but _that_ didn’t account for how it could go from one relatively small area to the entirety of North America, possibly further if the travel ban hadn’t worked. Someone had to be spreading it.

Someone had caused this. On purpose.

John had laid out his information, _only_ his information, for Scott, Virgil, and Alan. Everything he could find, he’d spread out on the dining room table. He’d taken notes on the rumors. He’d analyzed the files. He knew exactly what their dad had contributed to the project; he recognized the handwriting in the hastily scribbled notes on the scanned entries, the wording. And he knew Scott did, too.

John hadn’t mentioned his theories that someone was trying to destroy the world. Gordon did that for him.

John would never _ever_ admit it to anyone, but he was grateful Gordon had shown when he did. Gordon was on his side. Gordon would agree with John about their dad, he always had. Gordon would help John convince Scott and Virgil.

But Gordon didn’t know their dad was on the team that invented it. Gordon knew a lot of stuff - things he _really_ shouldn’t have, things _John_ didn’t, but he didn’t know their dad had a hand in this. And John knew if he did, Gordon would explode. And at the beginning, when they were just trying to survive, when they were constantly two steps away from someone getting punched in the face, John didn’t dare. They’d barely been around each other in the past two years. They were stepping on toes and poking at sore spots, and John wasn’t going to make it worse.

Scott, it seemed, had been in silent agreement with him, and so they didn’t mention it. Until John had brought up the idea of finding more information at the lab.

He just hoped he didn’t regret it.


End file.
